by Jess Haines
Sara peered out of the inner hallway, her face too pale. She let out a sigh of relief on sighting me, pressing her hand to her chest. “Jesus, you about gave me a heart attack. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Had to set some things straight, but it looks like everything will be fine.”
Her blue eyes searched my face, judging the truth, and finding it better to let my little white lie go unchallenged. “Aside from the lack of windows, this place is pretty nice. I picked the room on the right. We’ve both got our own bathrooms and closets. Everything is already furnished. Looks like it was a couple of guys who lived here, though. The girly mags and lotion in the dresser were a dead giveaway.”
A giggle escaped me despite myself. Then I remembered that someone, probably the mute vampire, Mouse, had told me that the two men who had lived in this apartment before Max Carlyle came to town were killed in the fight in the basement. That sobered me quick enough.
“Just toss them. I don’t think their owners will be coming back for them.”
“Aye, love, ye may want to put some gloves on ’afore you handle that stuff,” said a chipper voice from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder—and then turned around, blinking down at a woman who barely came up to my shoulder. “Good tae see ye again, lovey.”
“Hi, Clarisse,” I said, smiling wanly at the tiny vampire. I edged out of the doorway to give her room to come in. She flounced into the room, bright green eyes the color of Easter basket grass glittering with curiosity and excitement as she took in Sara and the dogs at a glance. She was wearing silk pajamas an eye-rending shade of lavender that somehow worked with her porcelain features and her curly black hair that trailed all the way to her hips when unbound, as it was now. “This is Sara, my business partner. Sara, this is Clarisse. She’s one of the house guards. Don’t ever take a bet from her.”
“Ooh, lass, ye ruin all my fun,” she pouted, setting her hands on her hips. Despite her tiny size and disarming looks, the vampire was formidable. Like Royce and Wesley, as well as a number of other vampires in the building, she was very, very old, which meant she didn’t always need to rest the entire day. It was little wonder she had come to investigate. Eminently curious as she was, those Shirley Temple dimples distracted you from the dainty fangs that now peeked from behind bright red lips, and gave no hint as to the enormous strength in those tiny fingers.
“I hope ye two don’t mind my stopping by. I heard the hubbub when Ryan started complaining and came for a look-see.”
Sara, for her part, took it all in stride. She shushed Buster when he gave one sharp, authoritative bark—warning Clarisse not to approach. The dogs whined nervously in their corner, but obeyed, staying (mostly) quiet while Sara took Clarisse’s outstretched hand. She blinked at the vampire’s cold, firm grip, but exhibited no obvious alarm.
“Are ye contracted, lass?”
Sara blanched, glancing at me before answering the vampire. “No. No plans to be, either.”
“A shame. Ah, lovey, ye never know, ye might change yer mind ’afore ye leave.”
“Right, thanks, Clarisse,” I hurriedly interjected, ushering her toward the door. “Hey, maybe you could tell Mouse and everyone we’re here later. We need to get some rest. Long day and all that.”
“Oh? I smell a bet coming on.” Her eyes took on a dangerous twinkle, and I groaned. It was the same look she got when about to start a wager on who would sleep with whom in the household, or win the next round of American Idol. “Not to fear, lass. I’ll tell everyone to leave off until tonight. ’Til then!”
“’Til then,” I replied, ushering her out the door and locking it behind me. Followed by running my palm over my face for what felt like the fiftieth time today.
“Er, Shia?”
“What.”
“What the hell was that about?”
“Clarisse is going to start a betting pool in the house on who’s going to get you to sign a contract. Just ignore it; maybe it’ll go away.”
Sara paled, nodded, and rapidly walked away. “I’ll be in my bedroom for the rest of forever. See you later.”
I shook my head and followed her example, heading to my own room. I was grateful to see Louis and Ryan had brought all of my bags in and set them down at the foot of the bed so I wouldn’t have to drag anything out of my car. The scent of vampire was nigh overpowering in the room, though, and I was a bit annoyed that there were no windows—not even in the bathroom—to vent the place.
The whole household would know we were here by nightfall. There were a few people I wouldn’t mind seeing again, but getting reacquainted with them was going to be interesting with Sara here. Royce would undoubtedly stick to his word and let all of his vampires know she was off-limits but, until he did, I’d have to keep a very close eye on her.
Chapter 31
I did manage to get some rest before nightfall. The constant stress had exhausted me more than I’d realized until my head hit the pillow. Waking up smothered by the smell of vampire wasn’t pleasant, but the high thread count sheets and cushy mattress did a lot to soothe my ruffled feathers. The scent of food gradually penetrated my sleep-fuddled haze, drawing me out from under the covers. I threw on some fresh clothes and shambled out into the living room.
Sara was talking quietly but animatedly with Clarisse, Mouse, and a couple other people I recognized, but couldn’t remember the names of. They gestured me over with welcoming smiles, and I was very pleased to see the pizza boxes on the table between them. After snagging a slice, I settled down on the arm of the nearest couch, inclining my head to our visitors.
The girl was one of the two Asian donors who lived in the building, though I couldn’t remember if this one was Ivy or Joy. The big guy seated next to Mouse was someone I’d met once, briefly, when I was under particularly heavy strain of the bond to Royce. All I remembered about him was that he’d also appeared pretty stressed at the time; now he seemed more relaxed, sprawled in his chair like he owned the place.
Sara, perhaps recognizing the way my eyes crinkled as I tried and failed to remember the names, smoothly filled me in.
“Hey, Shia, you’ve met Mouse, Christoph, and Ivy, right? Now that you’re here, Ivy’s supposed to give us the lowdown on how things work around here.”
“Good to see you again,” Ivy said, smiling brightly at me. I returned the expression, if a bit more wanly, and she hooked a thumb at the kitchen. “There’s a notepad and pens on your fridge. We get groceries delivered once a week. Write down anything you need, and turn it over to Timothy by Thursday night, and he’ll place the order in the morning. Mouse can introduce you if you haven’t met him yet. He’s a bit shy.
“I’m sure you noticed we don’t have windows. The vent systems are good, but if you smoke, take it outside. Use the fire escape at the end of the hall to chill in the courtyard. We barbeque out there in the summer, too. Let’s see, what else …”
Christoph spoke up, scratching the back of his neck. “If you don’t want everyone and their brother trying to bite you, make sure someone claims you fast.”
Mouse and Clarisse gave him disapproving looks. He shrugged. “What? It’s true.”
Ivy rolled her eyes then continued, ticking off each rule on her fingers as she went. “Right. Anyway, no visitors without clearing it through whoever’s on guard duty first. That includes pizza and other food deliveries. If you’re on the roster to work, you’ll find your name posted on the notice board in the gym on the second floor. Never leave the house through the front door without a partner; if you can, restrict your movements to the tunnel system in the basement. Someone will get you keys later. If you need a tour of the tunnels, ask Mouse or Ken; they know the place better than anyone. Oh, laundry’s done in the basement, too. Give dry cleaning to Ken on Mondays.
“Since you’ve got dogs, if you want to walk them, don’t take them to Central Park. It’s restricted to the werewolves, so we’re not supposed to bug them. Territory issues or something.”
“That�
��s very important, you know,” Christoph said, in the tones of one deeply offended.
“Pipe down, lovey; no one’s going to bother the Moonwalkers,” Clarisse said.
Mouse started to scribble something down on a notepad she’d brought, but threw her hands up when Ivy continued on a completely different topic.
“Alec said for you to pay him a visit once you were up. He’s working in his office upstairs. I’d knock first; Jessica was supposed to be spending some”—and here she added air quotes, rolling her eyes again as she did it—“quality time with him.”
“Er, ew, thanks,” I muttered.
“What?” Sara asked, brows arching. “What am I missing here?”
“They’re probably fucking,” Christoph said, placidly enough. Mouse and Ivy simultaneously smacked him on the back of his head, and he cringed, grabbing at his thick, curly hair. “Ow, ow, ow! All right! Enough!”
Sara made a face, then glanced at me. “Aside from the gross-out factor, that’s not as bad an answer as I was expecting. You ready to brave the lion’s den?”
I waved my pizza slice at her. “Let me finish eating. Not that I have much of an appetite after that lovely visual.”
“I know, right?” Ivy grinned at me, and I soon found myself smiling back.
Christoph, Mouse, Clarisse, and Ivy excused themselves with invitations to swing by and say hello after our meeting with Royce. They were planning a movie night in someone’s apartment at the end of the hall on the second floor; we promised to join them as soon as we were done.
“This place isn’t so bad,” Sara remarked once they were gone, reaching for a slice of pizza for herself. The dogs, braver now that the vampires had left, edged close to the table in hopes of being fed some scraps. Sara and I obliged them by tossing them bits of pepperoni and sausage that they eagerly snapped up. “I thought it was going to be all creepy and full of cobwebs or something. Nothing like this.”
I shrugged, swallowing the food in my mouth before replying. “Don’t be too surprised. Royce isn’t Dracula. He’s got better taste.”
She coughed on her pizza, then gave me a weak grin. We finished the rest of our food in companionable silence, then headed up to Royce’s room on the third floor.
I knocked and waited for an answer, ready to run back down the stairs if necessary to avoid any confrontation with Jessica. The idea of being in her presence after what Christoph had said downstairs and her little display with Royce during the day was a bit too much for me just then.
“Come in,” Royce called, his voice echoing across the expanse of what I was coming to think of as the Statue Room.
We went together, and this time the windows were open, allowing a cool breeze to waft through the room, stirring the gauzy white curtains. The spotlights had been dimmed, casting barely any illumination, giving the place a creepy vibe it hadn’t had during the day.
“I’m in the office. Come on back.”
Shivering, Sara and I looked at each other, exchanging glances before pressing onward to the black pit of the office. The only light to be seen was a bank of computer screens displaying the logo for A.D. Royce Industries.
Royce was hidden in the shadows, seated before a computer at the far end of the room. He glanced at us over his shoulder, an indistinct form in the dark gesturing for us to come closer.
“Both of you take a seat. I’ve got something to show you.”
We complied, though I had no clue what this was about. He tilted the nearest screen so we both could see, and played a video from a news Web site, the anchor’s face grim as she relayed her story.
“A terrible tragedy rocked Manhattan today when the body of award-winning journalist Jim Pradiz was discovered by police officers following an anonymous tip. According to sources, he was found in his home, dead of multiple animal bites and stab wounds. Involvement of Other-citizens is certain, though it was not immediately clear if Mr. Pradiz had been contracted at the time of his death. Though Detective Bobby McNeill, who is leading the investigation, stated it is too early to speculate and that no autopsy has yet been completed, he did admit that there is strong evidence of a connection between this tragedy and the investigative work done by Pradiz on local werewolf packs just prior to his death.
“Mr. Pradiz was best known for his Pulitzer Prize-winning editorial piece covering the introduction of the Others to our society in the wake of 9/11—”
Royce stopped the video and turned to face us, folding his hands in his lap. I dragged my eyes off the screen to face him, making a conscious effort to draw my hand away from my mouth and put it back in my lap.
Sara cleared her throat a couple times before managing a hoarse, “Wow.”
“Mr. Pradiz’s death leads me to believe that you two are in more danger than I had originally estimated. I foresee difficulties ahead with the trouble the Were packs are stirring up. For your own protection, until I have a better idea of their plans and the effects of their actions, I need to ask you both to remain restricted to this building. If you are traced here, it could endanger not only you, but the others in this building. I won’t have that. You both must exhibit due care for our protection and security, as much as your own. Agreed?”
Sara nodded gravely, but I wasn’t happy with his pronouncement. It put too much of a damper on my plans. “For how long?”
“Just until I get a better grasp on the movements of the packs. Rohrik Donovan will be taking an interest in this, I’m sure. I can request his assistance to determine what the Sunstrikers and Ravenwoods are up to, and check with my sources with the police so I can plot a course of action. For now, you’re safe as long as no one knows you’re here.” He turned to me, his eyes glittering unnaturally in the dark. I suppressed a shiver, and met his gaze without flinching. What he was asking of us meant that, if he or one of the other vampires did something to harm us, no one would ever know. Though he spoke sense, we were essentially trapped in a building full of predators, with nowhere else to run.
“Shiarra, I’ll have someone move your car to a storage lot, so your presence should go unnoticed as long as you remain inside.”
That helpless anger I’d successfully clamped down on earlier was back with a vengeance. I was raging at being trapped, hating that Chaz might have been involved in the death of the reporter. I held my knees to keep from digging my nails into my palms again. There was no way to know for sure, not yet, but something deep down told me that Chaz knew about it, even if he hadn’t participated in the act of murder. Whatever he and the other Sunstrikers were up to had to stop. Others’ lives, including mine and Sara’s, depended on it.
After a few deep breaths, I calmed down enough to think of a coherent answer to give Royce.
“All right. No movies, no malls, no clubs. What about walking Sara’s dogs? They can’t stay inside all the time.”
“Someone else in the building can take them out when needed. Ivy offered to be your host while you’re here, so you can check with her about who is available.”
Sara nodded. Even in the dark, I could tell she’d gone pale, though there was no lack of determination in her voice. Either she hadn’t realized the depth of the pile of shit we’d landed in, or she was much better at coping with swimming in it than I was. “We’ll be careful. I need to make some calls, tell my sister and my boyfriend that I’m okay. A couple of police officers paid us a visit before we came here, too. Do you have a phone I can use?”
“There should be one hooked up in the kitchen of your apartment downstairs. You’re welcome to use it, as long as you bear in mind that you cannot give out the number or tell anyone where you are.”
“Not even Arnold?”
Royce frowned, considering the image of the reporter on his computer screen before responding. “It may not be wise. Chaz is aware of his connection to you, and, through you, to Shiarra. If the Sunstrikers put pressure on him, despite his best intentions he might let something slip.”
“He would never do such a thing!” Sara said.
Her quiet vehemence didn’t sway the vampire.
“Even the most stoic can break when the correct leverage is applied, whether by torture or a threat to loved ones. You cannot be certain that he would be able to withstand whatever the Sunstrikers might attempt to do to him.”
The sick feeling that washed over me at the statement left me wanting to protest, to say that Chaz would never do such a thing. The sorry thing was, I didn’t know what Chaz—or the other Sunstrikers, for that matter—was capable of anymore. That any of the werewolves might stoop to such tactics was utterly reprehensible, but clearly not out of the realm of possibility considering how Jim Pradiz had died.
Royce continued, not waiting for us to recover from that gut blow. “Arnold’s connection to you also puts him in some measure of danger, so it may be for the best if he were to go into hiding as well.”
Sara said nothing. I cleared my throat and asked her unspoken question. “Could he stay here with us?”
“I won’t abide keeping a mage in my home, and I sincerely doubt he would wish to stay here even if I extended the offer. I’m sure The Circle must provide safe houses for their own when needed. Unless he is willing to relocate until the Sunstrikers have been taken in hand, I can’t condone telling him that you will be staying here.”
We thanked him and rose, making the trek across the Statue Room in solemn, somber quiet. He stayed in his office, the sound of keys rapidly being tapped on the keyboard trailing after us. It wasn’t until we were on the stairs and headed back to our apartment—what a strange concept, “our” apartment—that Sara said anything.
“You should call your parents.”
“I know.”
She nudged me with her elbow, and I looked at her, pausing on the stairs. Her concern was clear, and I had a hard time meeting her gaze. After a bit of hemming and hawing, I caved. “I’ll call them; I just don’t want to. Mom’s going to have a cow, and Dad will probably chew me a new asshole. Thing is, they’ll be right. I’ve hidden a lot from them, and I’m not looking forward to explaining why I never told them Chaz was Were. Mikey called and left me a message, too, so I think he may have found out. I’m not too excited about talking to him either.”